


Space-Age Love Song

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Cat/Human Hybrids, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin never counted on falling in love with one of his patients in the sick bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space-Age Love Song

Jongin was born on Earth.

An unremarkable feat, all things considered, except Jongin's mother is light years away from home, and cannot speak the language very well. His father, a commander of the Interplanetary Space Station, isn't around as often as anyone would like, but it's _for the good of the universe_ , or something, so Jongin doesn't complain when he's all alone at school on Father's Day. It's not like his father _forgets_ his birthday, or Chuseok, or his first day of school or any of the other milestones—he's just a hologram to Jongin, a 3D projection in the middle of their living room. His gruff _proud of you, son, I miss you and your mother and the girls very much_ is utterly devoid of warmth because there's no way to hug a hologram and feel the scratch of a week's worth of beard against your face. Holograms don't smell like aftershave and musk.

Sometimes he forgets and reaches out, trying to touch him. His hand goes straight through his father's chest, and his mother laughs, because it's an absurdly gruesome sight to behold: Jongin's fingers wiggling past the faint line of his father's ribcage, right where his heart is seated, beating, a trillion miles from here.

 

His sisters were born on the Interplanetary Space System in the middle of a mission. They've never been to Felididae but they still gather little Jongin into their arms and tell him stories about a place where _everyone_ has a tail and no one calls you _pussy_ or _fleabag_ or any of the other half a dozen names the kids at school have taken to calling him.

So he grows up knowing he is different, always looking skyward.

 

Jongin makes it into flight school easily. With his pedigree, it's a given—officers' children are given priority, and his strong score in maths and chemistry seal the deal. He ships off in June after he graduates from high school with a valise of clothes and a dog-eared copy of his father's original training manual, back when the ISS was just a figment of everyone's imagination. He thumbs through it before lights out every night, trying to absorb everything but also trying to endow the book with magical powers: _my father owned this, and he is the most powerful man in the Federation. I want to be next._ He is nineteen and living away from home for the first time in his life, and suddenly it feels like he's further away than his father had ever been, even if it is only half a day's ride by shuttle back to his mother's condominium in downtown New Seoul.

Still. It's not without its difficulties. His drill instructor takes one look at him and spits on the ground at Jongin's feet, muttering about _them fuckin' hybrids takin' over_. Jongin bites his tongue, remembering the stories his sisters told him. It isn't like this everywhere. The world is changing every day.

(There's also the matter of Jongin's father—if he received word of Jongin mouthing off to his superior officers, regardless of cause, he'd make a personal appearance at the Academy to make sure his son was adequately disciplined. Jongin would rather be pushed out of an airlock without a proper breathing apparatus than risk incurring the wrath and disappointment of his father.)

It's not like he's the only one here, either. There's another catboy in his unit—Oh Sehun. Not half-human, like Jongin, but purebred. Long, white tail, bright golden eyes with a burning focus that makes Jongin uncomfortable until he catches Sehun lolling on the couches after-hours one night, knees tucked under his chin and purring and Jongin realizes that even he's prone to snap judgment based on appearances sometimes.

 

"Was it hard for you?" Jongin asks one day, when they're peeling potatoes. Sehun looks up quizzically, blade poised and ready to take off his thumb tip. Jongin covers the blade with his hand and pushes it out of range.

"Hard?"

"Being. You know." Jongin gestures at his ears. Sehun's tail flicks and curls into a question mark.

"I don't know any other way to be."

 

Jongin desperately wants to be a pilot, wants to follow in his father's footsteps exactly and become a captain but his aptitude test disagrees and he's placed in the medic program before he has a chance to request a transfer. He sulks for days afterwards in his bunk, even calls home to his sisters, wondering aloud over the staticky pops in the bad connection: how am I ever going to face him now? His sisters assure him: _don't worry. Dad's so proud of you. Keep telling us you'll be the one to make a real difference._

Finally Sehun comes into his bunk to drag him out. "It's no less valid than being a pilot," he reminds Jongin, pulling his tail. "Medics are important. They save people."

Jongin hisses and yanks away, ears flattened. "Don't do that."

"Get up, then." Sehun rises to his feet. "I'm tired of eating alone."

"You know other people."

Sehun gives him a Look and Jongin understands: they both know plenty of people, but in this unit, at least, they've only got each other.

 

He sees combat for the first time at twenty-three. He's not ready for it. Nobody's ever ready for the onslaught of victims in the sick bay, doors jammed open with an empty gurney because they _just. Keep. Coming._ When it finally slows down, he stands back against the glass door of the supply cabinet and tries to catch his breath. His hands are sticky with blood, warm from disappearing inside someone's chest to piece things back together. He can't shake the image of his father out of his head as they're wheeling the pilot away, skin held together with little more than dental floss. He can't stop thinking about how it felt, how utterly terrifying it was to disappear inside someone, to feel the throb of a heartbeat and feel responsible for all the ones that should come after.

 

The pilot lives. Barely. Jongin checks in every half hour, cleans and re-dresses the wound. The stitches are neat, maybe his best work. He catches himself admiring his handwork, fingers ghosting over the tight zippering up the middle of the pilot's torso. Sehun is surprised to catch him sitting bedside long after the shift change, tail sailing slowly back and forth in the air, pad of his thumb anchored firmly below his lower lip.

"Jongin," he says. "Here you are. What are you doing? You missed roll call."

Jongin's head pivots at the sound, eyes distant, focusing on a spot on the wall behind Sehun's head. "Yeah, I. Uh. I've been here." He looks down at his hands. "Came in today. Casualty from one of the outer asteroid field skirmishes."

"Ah," Sehun says. His gaze drops to the boy in the bed. "He looks young. Too young to be a pilot." Jongin's been thinking the same thing. He's dwarfed by all of the monitors strapped to him, keeping him alive.

Jongin reaches out to retrieve the tablet from its place on the end of the bed. "Older than us. Twenty-four." He scrolls further. "Do Kyungsoo. Enlisted the year before we did. Huh," he says softly, putting the tablet back in its dock. "He's so _small_ … but he probably fits in the cockpit better than half of those guys."

"Is he going to live?" Sehun asks.

Jongin doesn't know, and he says so. Sehun contemplates this for a beat, tail curled up around his middle in a gesture of self-comfort. Finally, he looks back at Jongin, and his expression clears.

"You coming?" Sehun asks.

Jongin looks back at Kyungsoo, at the gentle rise and fall of the blanket over his sutured chest, and shakes his head. "Nah," he says, and tries not to think about how red Kyungsoo's blood had been. "Think I'm going to stick around a little longer."

"Suit yourself." Sehun shrugs. "I'll let the Lieutenant know where you've been."

Jongin nods gratefully and listens to the soft pad of Sehun's standard-issue slip-on shoes on the infirmary's tiled floor slowly fade into the hum of the oxygen tank in the corner.

Kyungsoo's so pale from the loss of blood that he almost blends in with the crisp white of the infirmary sheets. The heart monitor next to the bed blips a steady metronome: proof of life, an arching green line bouncing from one downbeat to the next. It's comforting, but much like the hologram calls from his father: hollow, mechanical. Lacking warmth.

Jongin watches him for a long time, long past when the corridor outside goes dark. A nurse pokes her head in and frowns. He holds a finger up to his lips and shakes his head. _You didn't see me._ The metallic sigh of the curtain rings out in the empty ward as she pulls the divider closed for a little privacy and leaves to continue her rounds. Jongin waits a moment to curl on the bed next to Kyungsoo and wrap his tail around him to hold him close, protect him. It's stupid and goes against his training but in that moment he truly believes if he holds on tightly enough that he will keep Kyungsoo tethered to the ground.

 

He spends every spare moment he's not physically required to be in another wing at Kyungsoo's bedside.

"First one's always the hardest," his supervisor says when he finds Jongin, patting him on the shoulder. "You've got other patients to attend to, Jongin. Don't fixate." _First what?_ Jongin wonders, searching for the pulse in Kyungsoo's wrist. He locates it and settles back into the chair, fingers still pressed into the soft flesh, wondering if Kyungsoo's ever going to wake up.

 

He finally does, three days later. Jongin is in the middle of smoothing every last wrinkle from the sheets as something to do when Kyungsoo's eyes pop open. He gags loudly around the tube in his throat, hands clenched.

"Relax," Jongin says when he gets over the shock. "Don't try to speak."

Kyungsoo yanks it out anyway, retching. His eyes are stretched wide, deep brown irises completely ringed in white. The tube clatters to the ground and rolls underneath the bed.

It takes a beat to register with Jongin but he springs into action, coaxes Kyungsoo back against the pillows and anchors his body to the mattress by his shoulders.

"I'm not kidding," Jongin warns. "You'll pull out your stitches if you keep doing that. Just. Stay still."

Kyungsoo coughs again and claws at Jongin's arm. Jongin can't figure out if Kyungsoo's frightened of him, but there are deep, crescent-shaped marks of punctured skin in the flesh of his upper arm before he's able to extract himself from Kyungsoo's steely grip.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Kyungsoo," Jongin says, folding his hands in front of his chest so Kyungsoo can see them. Kyungsoo's eyebrows lift, startled that Jongin knows his name even though they've never been introduced. "Please." Jongin sits back. "Do you know where you are?"

Kyungsoo blinks rapidly, eyes lingering on the curtain pulled close around them. He shakes his head.

"You're back at the ISS." Jongin knows not to traumatize him further by telling him, _your ship was gunned down by enemy fire just past the neutral zone_ and _we had to repair your heart manually because the servers for the virtual surgery client went down_ because it's a lot to handle all at once. Instead, he says, "You're going to be okay," and means it.

The fear in Kyungsoo's eyes softens to something else—not quite relief, but recognition, maybe, that he's safe.

"Cat?" Kyungsoo croaks. His throat is raw from being intubated so his voice sounds like it's been put through a blender. Jongin's never been so happy to hear someone speak before. He can't help the rumbling in his chest, the low purr of contentment, the push of his chin against the crown of Kyungsoo's head again and again.

Kyungsoo lifts a trembling hand to scratch behind Jongin's ears. Jongin dips his head in response and leans closer, throat vibrating. His purring is so loud he's sure someone walking past the sick bay is going to hear him, but he's just so happy to know Kyungsoo's finally out of the woods.

 

The entire medic staff is surprised at how quickly Kyungsoo's condition improves, considering they'd extracted about a bomb's worth of shrapnel out of his chest. He's sitting up after a week, holding a cup of juice by himself. Laughs when the nurses come by to see him and doesn't complain when they have trouble fixing his IV. He's an easy patient to take care of now that he's no longer teetering on the brink.

Jongin's assigned elsewhere. He protests this—vigorously—but another wave of pilots come into the sick bay with serious wounds and the senior medic on staff, Zhang Yixing, reminds Jongin that he's got a job to do. "They don't stop just because your attention's elsewhere," Yixing says gently. "Kyungsoo's in good hands."

Jongin stops by anyway. He sneaks in before the shift change and slips Kyungsoo a piece of hard candy he's pocketed from the nurses station, or a new comic, if the Station's exchange has been restocked. Kyungsoo never fails to look delighted when Jongin's face appears between the gap in the curtains. Kyungsoo likes to stroke Jongin's tail while they talk, hands smoothing the soft fur until Jongin can't talk anymore because he's purring too loudly to form complete sentences.

Yixing catches him one night and waits until they're out of earshot to take Jongin's hands and hold them together. Jongin feels like he's being handcuffed, and Yixing's words underscore the sentiment: "You did a good job, Jongin. We'll take it from here, though."

Jongin hangs his head. "I'm not on duty, hyung."

"We've given you a lot of leeway because of who your father is, Jongin, but people are starting to notice that you're playing favorites with the patients. It's not fair for the rest of the unit to pick up your slack. You need to show the same care for everyone, not just Kyungsoo-ssi."

Jongin shrugs stubbornly. He doesn't know what to say.

"This isn't supposed to be a punishment. Just a reminder to focus on your job." Yixing smiles. "The aptitude test wasn't wrong. You're well-suited for this."

"Obviously not," Jongin says, a little mulishly. "You're telling me I'm neglecting my other patients—"

"No, no. No one is suffering because of you—yet—but. Jongin. Aren't you getting a little too attached?"

"Attached?"

"He's a pilot, Jongin. Pilots get hurt." Yixing waits a beat while Jongin sucks his lower lip between his teeth. "He's being transferred tomorrow."

"Transferred?" Jongin's neck snaps up. " _Why?_ Because of me? I'll stop bothering him, I swear—"

"Nothing like that. He's too healthy to be down here. We're sending him up for physical therapy." Yixing puts a hand on Jongin's shoulder and waits until Jongin meets his eyes. "You want him to get better, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jongin says hoarsely, feeling homesick for the first time in years. "I do."

 

So Kyungsoo's moved to another wing and Jongin goes back to work like nothing ever happened. He still clocks in early and stays late, but divides that time amongst the half-dozen pilots and engineers still in various states of recovery. They all tell exciting stories about flight school and missions until Jongin feels hot with envy and excuses himself to go change the bed pans just so he doesn't have to listen anymore.

Yixing pulls him aside one evening and says, "He's been asking for you."

"Who?" Jongin asks dumbly.

"Kyungsoo." Yixing tells Jongin that Kyungsoo's been throwing fits in the middle of his sessions, refuses to do the exercises when he's asked. Some days he even refuses to leave the bed and just sits, staring out of the window.

"What's wrong?" Jongin asks. "He was looking forward to getting back."

"Go see him," Yixing says. Jongin raises a dubious eyebrow and Yixing waves his hands. "I know what I said, and now I take it back."

 

As expected, Kyungsoo's in bed when Jongin arrives. He checks in at the desk and tries to explain that Yixing sent him but it's unnecessary—he's waved right in. Kyungsoo doesn't look up at the soft knock on the door, nor when Jongin takes a seat at his bedside and pushes the crinkly wrapper of a grape-flavored hard candy into Kyungsoo's clenched fist.

"Hey," Jongin says quietly. "Kyungsoo."

Kyungsoo turns at the sound of Jongin's voice and the corners of his lips twitch upward, like he's fighting a smile. "It's you," he says. "You haven't come to see me."

"I've been busy," Jongin lies. "You're not in danger of dying anymore, there's nothing I can do for you."

Kyungsoo snorts.

"Want to tell me why you're being so difficult?" Jongin lowers his chin to the edge of the bed and stares up at Kyungsoo under his eyebrows. "They tell me you keep picking fights."

"I'm tired, Jongin. And it hurts."

"And this is better?"

Kyungsoo doesn't move.

"Look. Come for a walk with me," Jongin offers although Kyungsoo's not supposed to leave the wing. It's breaking protocol but Jongin doesn't care if it gets the results he's looking for. Nobody says a word to him when he coaxes Kyungsoo out of bed and lets him hold onto his waist for support.

Jongin notes the slow, deliberate way Kyungsoo rises to his feet. He moves with a slight limp—a swagger of equal parts bravado and pain, every step defiant and slow. He looks like an old man, shuffling with his hand trailing against the wall for balance. Jongin closes his eyes and lets his tail curl underneath Kyungsoo's arms, ready to catch him if he stumbles.

They barely make it around the corner before Kyungsoo is out of breath and begging for a rest. Jongin sits with him on the sill of the picture window looking out over the asteroid fields, legs swinging over the edge. It's so vast out there. Jongin imagines Kyungsoo's had a lot of views like these from the cockpit, stars streaking past the windshield on his way somewhere.

But not anymore.

"Why'd you come?" Kyungsoo asks. He's slumped over a little bit, cheek pressed into Jongin's shoulder.

"Yixing asked me to check on you."

Kyungsoo's face falls. "Oh," he says. "I was hoping it wasn't just that."

"Did you miss me?" Jongin teases, all smiles.

Kyungsoo stares at him. "Forget it," he mutters, cheeks red. "I just thought—"

Jongin links his fingers around Kyungsoo's wrist and tugs it into his lap, stroking the back of his hand the same way Kyungsoo used to stroke his tail. "Yes," he says after a moment. "Of course I did."

 

"He's better when you're around," Yixing explains when he temporarily reassigns Jongin to the physical therapy wing. He's mostly useless to the staff—he's trained to suture wounds, perform surgeries. He doesn't know how to convince a knee to bend again, doesn't know the right way to rub Kyungsoo's sore calves after he's walked around the deck twice. But he keeps Kyungsoo motivated by just being there, and it seems to be enough for now.

Jongin watches as Kyungsoo re-learns how to walk alone. First, with Jongin as a crutch—then the wall, then a cane. The day he makes an entire lap of the room without reaching out to hold onto something is the day Jongin bows over Kyungsoo and presses a fond kiss to his cheek. It's chaste, but Kyungsoo blushes anyway.

Jongin wonders about Kyungsoo's pilot friends because they've been conspicuously absent. His curiosity's sated when Byun Baekhyun comes to visit one day. He's built similarly to Kyungsoo—not delicate, exactly, but petite. Jongin's starting to realize that there might be such a thing as a pilot's build. And he definitely doesn't have it.

Baekhyun doesn't miss a beat when he sees Jongin's ears, just extends his hand to shake and says, "I've been to Felididae a few times. It's really beautiful there." He's a bright, enthusiastic guy, teases Kyungsoo mercilessly about everything including a crack about his _hot nurse_ that Jongin overhears while he's trying not to eavesdrop. Jongin notices when Baekhyun's worn out his welcome, when Kyungsoo's eyelids start to get heavy. He shoos him out so Kyungsoo can rest and Baekhyun vows to return— _"with the others! Get better soon, I'm tired of flying in formation behind fucking Jongdae, he's a disaster!_ "

"Why are you always one step ahead of me?" Kyungsoo murmurs drowsily as Jongin fluffs his pillows. "It's like you can read my mind. Is that a cat thing?"

"No," Jongin says, pulling the top sheet under Kyungsoo's arms. "It's an _I'm your doctor and I know you_ thing."

Kyungsoo chuckles into his pillow. "Thank you."

He falls asleep with Jongin's name still on his lips.

 

Flight re-training comes next. His progress is painfully slow at this. His therapist tells Jongin it's normal for patients to stall out at this phase. "He's still scared, I think. It's bringing back a lot of memories."

There's nothing Jongin can do for him here, either. When Kyungsoo comes storming out of the simulator, ripping his gloves off and discarding them as he goes, Jongin has to follow him all the way to the other side of the ship before he'll slow down enough to talk.

"I can't anymore, okay?" he bites angrily, slapping Jongin's hand away.

Jongin dips his chin forward and butts it against Kyungsoo's head, much like he'd done the night Kyungsoo had woken up. The tension in Kyungsoo's body releases and he absently reaches his hand up to pet the side of Jongin's face.

"They want me to fly again," he says, fingers slowing at the contour of Jongin's chin, "and I don't think I can do it."

Jongin takes a deep breath and holds it. "You walked all the way out here without any help. Pretty fast, too."

Kyungsoo's quiet for a moment. "Yeah?" he asks. "What's your point?"

"My point is, six weeks ago you couldn't even breathe on your own." He slips his hand into Kyungsoo's and holds it against his cheek. "Can you please try?"

"I guess." Kyungsoo relaxes into Jongin's shoulder and Jongin knows that's as close to a yes as he can manage at this point. He'll take what he can get.

 

His father calls him down for a rare visit to the officers' quarters. Jongin never goes to this part of the ship and can't shake the feeling of being back in high school, being sent to the principal's office—even though this time, he's done nothing wrong. He sits in his father's office, spine rigidly upright, just like he'd been taught at the Academy.

When his father finally comes in, he doesn't look like a commander of anything. He just looks tired. There's powdered sugar from a jelly doughnut on his pants and his shirt is unbuttoned at the neck. He looks very tired. Old, too—older than Jongin ever pictures him in his mind's eye.

"How are you doing?" he asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Fine, sir."

His father laughs. "At ease, Jongin. I'm just _Dad_ right now. Which reminds me—please call your mother soon, will you? She keeps asking me how you are and I don't see you enough to answer the question without lying."

Jongin nods. "I will. I've—been busy."

"She worries about you. And I can only tell her the stories I hear."

Jongin swallows nervously. _What does that mean?_ "Stories?"

"I'm really proud of how dedicated you are to your job," he says. "Zhang Yixing says you're the reason we didn't lose anyone after last month's engagement."

"That's not true." Jongin's ears flatten shyly against his head, unsure of how to take the compliment.

"Let me be proud of you. It's hard not to brag when your name keeps coming up in the status reports I'm reading. About how long you work, how good you are with your patients."

"Thanks," Jongin whispers, chin on his chest.

"How is he doing, by the way? The pilot—" He shuffles through the papers on his desk. "I can't remember his name. The one you've been assigned to."

"Kyungsoo," Jongin supplies. "He's good. Getting better every day. Even completed a small test flight in the simulator yesterday."

"Good, good." Jongin's father leans forward in his chair and nods. "I was looking over his record. He's a very good pilot, we really need him back where he belongs. So, thanks for looking out for him." As he's reaching out to scratch Jongin behind the ears, the intercom crackles to life. He pulls back as though he's been burned.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Sir. You're needed down on the bridge right away."

"Yeah." He sighs. "On my way." He flashes Jongin an apologetic smile. "Typical, isn't it?"

Jongin gets to his feet. "It's okay, Sir—Dad. I really need to get back to work, anyway."

"I think your mother would feel better if you told her you'd made a friend here. She worries you're lonely."

"Friend?"

Jongin's father gathers a stack of papers into his arms and holds them to his chest. "Do Kyungsoo. The pilot. I hear you spend a lot of time together."

Jongin blushes fiercely. "I—well."

"Come visit me again soon," his father says. "I saw you more when you were back on Earth." He hugs Jongin then, and Jongin purrs quietly.

His father chuckles. "So like your mother."

 

The day finally comes when Jongin arrives in the physical therapy ward only to see Kyungsoo's things piled neatly on the bed. Kyungsoo's sitting in the chair, gnawing on his fingernails.

"I passed the evaluation. I'm cleared for flight," he says when Jongin crouches in front of him and rests his chin on Kyungsoo's knee. He strokes the soft curls of Jongin's fringe, thumb tracing the furred dome of his ears. He looks terrified.

"Do you want me to submit a request for re-evaluation?" Jongin asks, eyelids shuttering. He can't help himself. He's trying to focus on the problem but Kyungsoo's fingers just feel so _good_. "I don't—I don't have to tell them you said anything, it could be _my_ concerns—"

"No." Kyungsoo inhales sharply through his nose. "They're—we've got an exploratory mission to Argentum. Volcanic activity last week means all communication to the base we have there has been cut off. They need everybody. I have to go."

"But you're not ready."

"Accomplishing something's all in the mind, right?" Kyungsoo forces a smile. "I believe I can, and so I will."

That's not quite how it works, but Jongin wants him to be okay just as desperately as Kyungsoo wants to be okay, so he lets him have this one. Jongin uses Kyungsoo's hand to pull himself up. The ward is quiet, and Jongin thinks, _this might be the last chance I have_. He lowers himself carefully into Kyungsoo's lap, palming the back of Kyungsoo's neck and reels himself in nice and slow to brush a wary kiss against Kyungsoo's warm mouth. He stills, waits for Kyungsoo to move underneath him, push him away—instead, Kyungsoo closes his eyes, takes a shallow breath, and kisses him back.

 

The thing is, Jongin knows that Kyungsoo's still having panic attacks when he gets in the cockpit. Not every time, but often enough to make a mission a definite risk. He goes to see Yixing in his office after he helps Kyungsoo move back to his sleep cubicle. He flops face-down on the couch in the corner and makes pitiful mewing noises until Yixing puts down the tablet he's working from.

"Something bothering you?" he asks, like it's not obvious.

Jongin buries his face in a throw pillow and says, "Kyungsoo's not ready to fly but he passed this morning's evaluation so they've green lighted him to fly again and I'm really worried and—"

"Jongin. I can't understand a word you're saying."

Jongin sits up. "This thing. The mission to Argentum."

"Mmm? What about it?"

"Is it really—do we really need to send everybody?"

Yixing puts his elbows on his desk and leans into them. "It's a search and recovery effort. So… yeah."

"Kyungsoo's not… I don't think he should go." Jongin tries to sound casual but his tail betrays him. The sharp slice through the air draws Yixing's attention. He furrows his brow.

"Is this a medical opinion or a personal one?"

"I—both. I don't know." He sits up. "Have you ever had a surgery go wrong?"

Yixing looks at him hard. Pain flickers through his eyes, then it's gone, just as fast. "Yes. Not everything can go right all of the time."

"Were you ever afraid it would happen again?"

"Every day, Jongin. That's what motivates me to be very, very careful with every patient I see." He sighs. "Look. Some things you can't fix. You've just got to trust him. If he passed the evaluation, then he can do it."

"What if something happens? What if he freaks out in the cockpit? Won't he be discharged?"

Yixing won't look Jongin in the eye anymore. "There's protocol for these things, it hardly ever comes to—"

"He'll be discharged."

Yixing swallows loudly. "Probably."

 

Jongin sneaks out that night after lights out and goes to Kyungsoo's cubicle. He's lying awake, tracing a pattern on the ceiling with the tip of his finger. He seems surprised when Jongin appears and crawls inside.

"Everything okay?" he asks. His eyes are still so bright, even in the dark. Jongin nods.

"I never told you. I saw my dad the other day. The—uh. Commander."

"It's so weird to hear you call him _Dad_ ," Kyungsoo admits.

Jongin laughs and reclines on his elbows. "I feel like I'm breaking the rules every time he tells me to call him that. We're in his office, we're both in uniform… he really should be _Sir_ , don't you think?"

"I think you probably had a childhood very different from mine."

"I'm sure I did." After today, Jongin feels bold enough to lean in and kiss Kyungsoo's temple. "He thanked me for taking care of you."

"Me, too." Kyungsoo buries his face in Jongin's neck. Jongin purrs happily. "I always feel like I'm doing something right when you do that," Kyungsoo says, chuckling. He pauses a moment and then clears his throat. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but. Why are you here?"

Jongin wraps his tail around Kyungsoo's waist and pulls him closer. "I'm just. Worried. About you flying tomorrow."

"Yeah. Same," Kyungsoo confesses. His voice shakes.

"Show me how to do it," Jongin says. "Let me go, instead. I've—I wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid, I read the training manual cover to cover a thousand times—"

Kyungsoo laughs weakly. "Jongin. I think someone's going to notice if I suddenly have a tail."

"It's not that hard to hide it in a flight suit."

Kyungsoo gnaws on his thumbnail again. "That's not comfortable. And besides, it took me _years_ to learn, you can't just—you'd get yourself—" He can't say _killed_ but Jongin's brain fills in the word anyway.

"I'm just scared," Jongin admits. "I'm—I want you to be okay. What if something happens, and I'm not there, or you can't get back, or—"

Kyungsoo puts his hand over Jongin's mouth. "I will be fine. I need you to tell me that I'm ready for this and I'm a pilot and that this is what I signed up for."

"But—"

"Jongin." Kyungsoo's eyes narrow. "I've done this a thousand times before—" He doesn't need to say _the accident_ for Jongin to know.

"I just—need you to come back in one piece," Jongin says finally.

"And so I will."

The thing Jongin hates most about the sleep cubicles on the ship is that they're designed to fit one. Jongin twists on his side, tries to cram himself in the space between the wall and Kyungsoo's body so he can wrap his arms around him properly, but mostly he just ends up elbowing the wall.

"Whose dumb idea was it to build to these specifications?" he grunts, laughing into Kyungsoo's hair. "These stupid things—are so _small_."

Kyungsoo looks up at him and actually _smirks_. Jongin's never seen that expression before. "Not that small. Here." He sits up, legs tucked underneath him, and pulls his shirt over his head.

Jongin's taken aback at the purple scar laced up the middle of Kyungsoo's chest. Still some of the neatest work he's ever done. His hands hesitate until Kyungsoo brings them close and presses them against the raised zipper of skin.

"You did a good job," he says, voice low. "Good as new."

Jongin kisses him roughly then, open-mouthed and unfaltering, his thumbs framing the narrow valley of Kyungsoo's collarbones. Kyungsoo lies back against the mattress and pulls Jongin on top of him, sure fingers searching for the button on Jongin's collar like it holds the answer.

 

Jongin wakes up cold. He stretches out to his full height, eyes still closed, and reaches out with his tail to pull Kyungsoo back against his chest.

He's not there.

Jongin's body reacts before his mind has a chance to catch up. He tugs on his clothes inside-out and runs down the corridor. He slams into Sehun on his way to the shuttle dock. His coveralls are grease-stained but the fur on his tail is still immaculate.

"Jongin?" Sehun looks confused. "What are you doing down here? Did someone call for a medic?"

"I'm not on duty. I'm just—where's Kyungsoo?"

Sehun wrinkles his nose. "The pilot? He's—they've gone, Jongin. Launch was over an hour ago."

"Fuck," Jongin says.

"Didn't he tell you that? Hey, wait." He leans in, a leering grin plastered over his face. "That reminds me. I heard you weren't in your cubicle last night. Where did you go?"

Jongin rakes his fingers through his hair and yanks, trying to ignore the question. "He's—I didn't get to. He's not a hundred percent, I was going to try and get him to stay—I just—thought I'd have time to stop it."

 

Yixing's leaving his office to go on morning rounds when Jongin corners him and demands an audience. Yixing watches him pick at his cuticles and wring his hands before he finally manages to get it out of him.

"I haven't had any incident reports come up," Yixing says gently. "Don't you think I would?"

"Is that what you're waiting for? For something to happen again? Yixing," Jongin pleads, "I need you to help me."

Yixing holds his finger up and fiddles with the touch screen on the wall next to his desk. Jongin chews on his lower lip as Yixing fiddles with the radio frequency until he's tuned into the mission's air stream.

A navigator's speaking: _"—PILOT D.O-93, STATUS UPDATE?"_

And then Kyungsoo's voice, strong and firm. "Approaching the landing."

_"B.H-92, CONFIRM?"_

A third voice chimes in. "Confirm! We'll be on the ground in a sec. Thanks, ground control. See you soon."

"See?" Yixing says, turning down the radio chatter. "I told you he'd be fine. But I didn't let him fly alone, either."

Jongin arches an eyebrow. "I don't—"

Yixing cracks his knuckles. Each one pops smoothly, a snapping echo in the quiet office. "What you just heard. Baekhyun's sitting second chair. We didn't send Kyungsoo out on his first mission without a safety net."

Jongin sits on the ground hard, too shocked to make it to a chair. "You—I can't—you really—?"

"After you came and talked to me I sent out the recommendation. It was approved early this morning. He's fine, Jongin," Yixing says, his voice gentle. "There are safeguards in place for these types of things. We're not going to let Kyungsoo go that easily."

Jongin can't listen anymore. He folds himself in half and cries tears of relief into his own lap until Yixing kneels on the floor next to him, chin heavy on the top of Jongin's head.

 

Jongin lies in his own cubicle that night, staring at the veins on the back of his hand when the latch disengages and the door swings open. He feels a gust of cold air and pulls his tail tightly around his body, trying to stay warm.

"Fuck off, Sehun," he says, shading his eyes with the back of his hand.

A voice sweeter than Sehun's responds. "If you say so."

Jongin leaps up, clubbing the top of his head on the cubicle's ceiling. Stinging pain sparks across his skull. "You're back," he breathes, leaning right out of the cubicle to grab Kyungsoo in by the collar and kiss the laugh right out of him.

"I am," Kyungsoo says against Jongin's lips. "In one piece. Like I promised."

"You scared the hell out of me when you were gone this morning," Jongin says accusingly, tears already welling in the corners of his eyes. "But I heard you. On the radio."

"You did?" Kyungsoo asks, surprised.

"You did so well," Jongin says. "You were so brave. I could never—"

"Sure you could," Kyungsoo says, motioning for Jongin to move aside. He crawls up on his hands and knees. "If you promised me you'd come back, I know you would."

Jongin pushes his face into Kyungsoo's ear. He's overcome and doesn't know what else to say, but Kyungsoo reaches up to stroke his head and his chest rumbles like a motor engine, more content than he's been in weeks.

 

When Kyungsoo meets Jongin's father for the first time, he sits out in the common room for hours to finish shining the brass on his dress uniform. Jongin laughs at the extra effort but he's also kind of charmed.

"Should've worn your flight suit," he murmurs into the skin right below Kyungsoo's earlobe. Kyungsoo rears back and straightens his collar, affronted.

"Not appropriate. It's skin-tight, Jongin—"

"I know. You look really good in it," he says hungrily.

Kyungsoo sighs and bends to lace his boots. "It's like you want him to hate me."

"He's giving you a commendation. He's already impressed by you—and when he meets you, he'll love you."

"You have no proof."

Jongin's tail curls around Kyungsoo's wrist, drawing him to his feet and into Jongin's chest. "I do," he says honestly, smoothing the lapel of Kyungsoo's jacket. Kyungsoo's hand is warm when it comes to settle on Jongin's waist. He doesn't need the support to stand now, but he still looks for it sometimes, out of habit.

"Yeah?" he asks, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah." Jongin loops his arm around Kyungsoo's shoulders to lead him out of the door. "He'll love you because I love you."

It's a tight fit walking two abreast but Jongin likes it better when he can match his stride with Kyungsoo's. Two pairs of footsteps with one distinct sound.

**Author's Note:**

> part of my holiday advent ficlet series 2013. written for linealisi@lj and posted for dec 16th.


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